Professor Layton and the Study Session
by ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: Layton and Legal try to guide young Luke through the enigma that is his semiotics course. Possible spoilers for the third game.
1. Semiotics

**Professor Layton and the Study Session**

Clive looked at the professor. The professor looked at Clive. They looked at each other in an endless lookingness until neither one could stand to look any longer.

"Would you two stop staring at each other and help me?" Luke moaned. "I have a semiotics midterm in two days!"

"Right, yes. Apologies, my boy, we were trapped in a rather heated mental debate," Layton replied, tipping his top hat. "I'm afraid it got away from me."

"I don't _care_ about that," Luke snapped. "I just want to pass this test!"

"Well, Clive. You worked in journalism for a while. Surely you can teach our Luke here about signs and symbols, hm? I'm afraid it's rather out of my field of study," Layton said, smiling placidly at the ex-con sitting across the table from him.

Clive's mouth twitched. "Oh really? You can't be a very good archaeologist, then. I would think a good percentage of what you do revolves around the signs and symbols of people past."

"Well done, Clive! Every puzzle has an answer!" Layton congratulated. Secretly, he had been hoping he could get out of teaching his little protégé something so complicated. Why was Luke taking such a course, anyway? Elementary schools were getting more advanced by the day, it seemed.

"_Professor_," Luke groaned. "_Please_."

"Have you been reading your textbooks, my boy?" Layton asked, frowning slightly.

"O-of course I have!" Luke replied. "I'm hurt you'd even ask!" He hadn't. He hadn't read a single page. He was going to fail.

"Well, then, brat. Let's start with an easy one. What's a medium?" Clive smirked. He was fully aware that Luke hadn't touched his books in weeks, though he couldn't be sure Layton knew the same.

"T-that's simple!" Luke said, bluffing. "A medium is—is—it's, um…"

"Really, Luke? Stumped already?" Layton raised his eyebrows. "I'm a little disappointed, my boy…"

"Give me time!" Luke exclaimed. "It's coming to me!"

"Oh, yes. I can hear the gears positively _churning_ away in there." Clive reached over and gave Luke a smart rap on the head. Luke snarled something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

"Luke! A true gentleman doesn't use foul language," Layton scolded. "He doesn't _need_ to."

"Sorry, professor. I know this one! I do! It's, um…" Luke paused. "I've got it! It's a pictograph!"

"Wrong," said Clive.

"I wasn't finished!" Luke snapped. "I meant to say that a pictograph is an _example_ of a medium! It's really any physical thing some sort of sign can be shown with."

"Vague," said Clive.

"Don't be so hard on the boy," Layton said. "Very good, Luke. Can you give me another example?"

"Well, um, anything, really. The newspapers and books count, right? And the print that's on them, those are the signs," Luke replied.

"Excellent! I see you've grasped the concept well," Layton said.

Clive was nowhere near as impressed. "What's a representation, then?"

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, thinking back to class. "It's…using signs to portray meaning, right? Like using the printed words to make the reader understand whatever the writer is saying. The representation is a signifier and the meaning is the signified."

"What's interpretation?" Clive continued, unmoved.

"The analysis of a sign or symbol!" Luke replied, feeling more and more confident. Maybe he _hadn't_ slept through all of his classes!

…Just most of them.

Layton had been giving little nods here and there but had decided to stop and drink tea instead. Drinking tea was plenty encouraging, he reasoned. Though, that may only apply to the tea drinker. To be honest, he was currently suffering a severe caffeine high and the buzzing in his mind made it hard to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. No, that wasn't it. He was too _fast_ to have to _think_ for more than a few seconds. Yes, that was it. He was just too fast. _He was the fastest man alive. _

"Are you alright, professor?" Luke asked hesitantly. "You're sort of just…vibrating there."

"I am perfectly alright, my boy," Layton said intensely. "Perfectly. Alright."

"If—if you say so, professor," Luke said.

"But I _do_ say so, Luke," Layton replied. "I _do_."

"I can't believe I left prison for _this_," Clive said.

"Shut up, Clive," said Layton, who was now vibrating so quickly the table shook.

"Yeah, shut up—wait, professor, I thought you said gentlemen didn't curse?" Luke said.

"Yes. _Gentlemen_ don't. But I'm not a gentleman," Layton said.

"You…what? Of course you are! You're a true gentlemen!" Luke exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"I'm not a gentleman," Layton repeated. "I'm a _god_."

"You—_what_?" Luke squeaked.

"I'm a GOD!" Layton replied, and then he vibrated his particles so quickly that he vanished from his current plane of existence. The word "god" echoed in the room several times, though there were a definite number of reasons why that shouldn't happen.

"What just _happened_?" Luke shrieked. "And you—you're just sitting there! Say something, damn you!"

Clive paused, pursing his lips slightly. "_He_ tears a hole in the fabric of space/time simply because he drank too much spiced tea, and _I'm_ the one that gets arrested? How is that fair?"

"You filthy—" Luke began, but at that moment, Layton pinged back into existence (or rather, existence as we know it).

He sat in his chair for several minutes, soulless eyes wide, hat slightly askew. "Well, then."

"_Is that all you can say_?" Luke hissed.

"That was…quite the puzzle," Layton said. "Quite the puzzle indeed."

Luke slammed his textbook shut and stood in a huff. "Oh, go back to the forty-second dimension. See if I care." He stormed from the room, leaving Layton to stare glassily at the wall and Clive to stir his own cup of tea placidly.

That was enough studying for one day.


	2. Semiotics: Electric Boogaloo

**Professor Layton and the Study Session **

–**Part Crying in a Corner Because the Test is Tomorrow—**

Luke slapped the cup from Layton's hand and it rolled across the table, coming to a stop at Clive's elbow.

"I told you, no more tea!" Luke snapped. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Yes," Layton replied wistfully.

"You are staying in this dimension! That's final!"

"Fine, fine." Layton tipped his hat, though his memories of the forty-second dimension were fond. There had been many Eldritch abominations waiting for him there with open tentacles and cups of tea. Delicious tea. Tea that positively made hair grow on your back and your taste buds wither into euphoric motes of nothingness.

Maybe it hadn't been so wonderful, after all. Layton coughed into his fist.

"I told you, I need to study!" Luke was blathering. "Like, what is 'reification' supposed to mean? I couldn't find a definition for it anywhere!"

"To thingify," said Clive, not looking up from his newspaper.

"What does _that_ mean?" Luke moaned.

Clive gave a careless shrug. "No clue. It wasn't very important, whatever it was."

"_That doesn't help me!_" Luke sobbed grossly. Clive pulled a disgusted face and slid his chair to the farthest corner of the table. "I only have a day! The test is tomorrow!"

"Well, then, what about 'neomania'?" Layton said kindly.

"It's when you need to have new forms of entertainment all the time, to see and have what is the latest thing," Luke said. "Like the kids at school with their fancy vinyl records."

"Have the times changed so quickly?" Clive asked, flipping the page. "Back when I was in school, all the kids had iPods."

"What in heaven's name is an 'iPod'?" Layton asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Go back to archaeology," Clive replied.

"What year is this, anyway? Seriously?" Luke added. "I mean, there are all sorts of different sign—"

"A-anyway," Layton interrupted hastily. "What is 'juvenilization'?"

"When people think of themselves as forever young, both physically and socially attractive," Luke replied. "Like you, professor!"

"No, no, my boy. I'm afraid you're mistaken. I merely _don't age_," Layton corrected.

"You used to have an afro, didn't you?" Clive asked.

"Hush, Clive. We don't talk about that," Layton said, casting the young man an intense and pointed look. "Anyway, juvenilization isn't all bad. It has led to some improvement in healthcare."

"And extra revenue for Botox companies," Clive added.

"Buttocks?" Luke said, eyes round as saucers.

"Yes, Luke. Asscheeks," Clive said. "Very good. That is a key point in juvenilization. Make sure you spell it in all capitals on your final tes—"

"Don't be cruel, Clive," Layton said. "Now, what's a 'floating signifier'?"

"A signifier without a referent," Luke said. "Like a word without an agreed-upon meaning."

"Can you give me an example?" Layton asked.

"Bluh," said Luke.

"Come now, my boy, I'm sure you can think of something."

"Bluh," Luke insisted.

"Luke, really, show some—"

"No, professor, _bluh! Bluh!_"

"He's speaking tongues, Clive. We ought to tie him up in a carpet and give him to Madame Zatanna, the psychic down the street. _She'll_ know what to do."

"This is ridiculous," Clive said. "Luke, you're going to fail. You're going to fail this test and every test after it. And do you know what will happen then?"

Luke stared at Clive, horrified. "W-what?"

"You'll write shitty fanfiction about puzzles alone in a houseful of cats. That is what you will do. _That is your future_," Clive hissed ominously.

"Oh," said Luke. "Actually, I think I might be able to accept th—"

"And you'll never get to play baseball again."

"I'll study!" Luke said quickly. "I'll study! I'll study! _I'll study all the textbooks!_"

And then he did.


	3. Intercultural Communication

**Professor Layton and the Study Session**

**-Part Oh God Already?—**

Luke tapped his pen against the side of one of his many textbooks. He wasn't sure if this was the right textbook for the course, or even _one of_ the textbooks from his course, but it was a gesture of study nonetheless.

"Troubles, my boy?" Layton asked, fluffing his newspaper in a truly gentlemanly way.

"Professor, I have another test tomorrow," Luke moaned.

"What course? Perhaps I could lend my assistance." Layton set the newspaper down on the table.

"Like last time?" Luke asked hesitantly.

"Of course!" Layton replied, beaming. Luke didn't want to break the mood, but Layton hadn't been the best of teachers last time. In fact, the whole experience had made him worry about Layton's students at the university.

"Um, I'm okay," Luke said. "I don't need help…" Except he did. He really, really, did.

"Are you sure? You look a little worried."

"Well, I guess," Luke said. As long as the professor didn't drink too much tea, maybe this would go better.

"Just tell us the name of the course, you little twat," Clive said irritably. Luke jumped.

"When did _you_ get here?" he asked in his funny little English accent that changes depending on which country you're reading this in.

"I've been here all along," said Clive, thinking, _I've been here since last time. I never left this table. I'm handcuffed to the chair._

But he didn't say it. He didn't think anyone had noticed and, quite frankly, it wasn't something he wanted to draw attention to.

"Ermm…" said Luke.

"Do you even remember the name of the course?" Clive questioned, raising his eyebrows sceptically.

"Ermm…" said Luke. He glanced at the nearest textbook. "Semiotics? Shit! No, that was—"

"Luke!" Layton scolded. "Watch your manners!"

"Er, right, s-sorry, professor," Luke said sheepishly.

"Good save," said Clive. "Are you quite sure it's _semiotics_?"

"I—I was just testing you! It's really, um—" Luke looked frantically for his other textbook— "Intercultural Communications, apparently."

"'Apparently'?" Layton repeated.

"I mean, obviously, not apparently," Luke amended.

"Sure you did," said Clive. "Sure."

"Aren't you supposed to be in jail right about now?" Luke snapped. "What with, you know, trying to murder half of London and all?"

"I had a good lawyer," Clive lied. In truth, he had received an awful, awful, spiky-headed buffoon of a lawyer. There had been a good deal of table pounding and pointing, but he had managed to sneak out of court in the midst of things, right around the time the fourth witness had been flirting with the prosecuting attorney. _Again._

Luke narrowed his eyes. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's the truth," Clive replied, careful not to jingle his handcuffs too loudly.

"Well, then, Luke. Can you explain to me what intercultural communications are?" Layton asked, trying to move back to the topic at hand.

Luke stared at the professor dumbly. How was he supposed to explain something so mind-numbingly obvious?

"A field of study that focuses on the connection between culture and communication," said Clive.

"Clive! Luke is the one we're supposed to be testing, not you," Layton said.

"Well, he wasn't about to answer any time soon, was he?" Clive replied mildly. "I only wanted to speed the process along."

"What about migration, Luke? Can you tell me about that?" Layton said, ignoring the young man across from him and turning to his protégé.

"Women play a greater role in migration," said Luke.

It took Layton a great deal of time to process this. Clive, however, was faster. "What does that even _mean_?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you'd tell me," Luke admitted. "It's written here in my notes, but I don't know _why_."

"And you didn't ask your teacher?" Layton inquired.

"My teacher was the one who wrote the notes," said Luke. Clive did a spectacular facepalm.

"What is the 'push-pull' theory?" Clive asked.

"It's, uh, the theory that there are factors that make people want to leave a country, while there are also factors that attract people to a new country. It's a theory about why people emigrate, I guess," said Luke.

"That is a vague and stupid answer," Clive replied. "If I were your professor, I'd have you flogged for your idiocy."

"I don't have professors, I have teachers. I'm still in elementary school," Luke protested.

"Oh, that's right. Well, then I'd hit you with a ruler," Clive corrected. And then he did.

"Ow!" said Luke. "Professor, he hit me!"

"No one likes a tattle-tale," said Layton.

"I—_what_?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't had enough Belle Classic today. I'm afraid it contains my daily dose of empathy."

"_How does that even work?_" Luke hissed.

Layton gave a dismissive shrug. "I think it's something to do with the berries."

"What format is the test in? Do you know?" Clive asked, reaching out and snatching up the professor's newspaper with his free hand. _CONVICT STILL AT LARGE_ was emblazoned across the first page in bold, blocked letters. He quickly put his teacup over the offending headline.

"Multiple choice," said Luke.

"Answer all 'c'," Clive and Layton instructed in unison. Clive smirked.

"Oh, dear. That was a call back from my own student days, I believe," Layton said, quickly tipping his hat over his eyes and coughing into his fist. "My apologies."

"It persisted through mine, as well," Clive agreed.

"That's silly!" Luke exclaimed, annoyed. "And, besides, everyone knows the answer is 'b', now!"

"Yes, well, apparently you're supposed to put punctuation inside the quotation marks, and you obviously don't do that," said Layton.

"What! When did I ever do that?" Luke said.

"In your last sentence, when you said that the answer is 'b.' See? I just did it correctly. You said it was 'b', I said it was 'b.'"

"That doesn't sound any different!"

"But it _looks_ different, and that is what matters." Layton nodded.

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"No," Layton said wistfully. "No, it doesn't."

"At any rate, both are correct on modern-day word processors with grammar check functions," Clive said. "Though, you can hardly call those reliable."

"What's a word processor?" Luke asked.

"What's grammar?" questioned Layton.

Clive stifled the sob of a thousand exasperated literary majors. "Never mind."

And then they didn't.


End file.
